PS 2684 




rr-^ 








TIiE'^:2 



ir? 



1) V 



"kOSIDG.SClSN 



K^KJ 



"A *l' 




\^imm:mM.Mx:sjBsm:f 



THE 



(^LOSING 3c^NE, 



BY 



THOMAS BUCHANAN KEAD. 



ILL UST n A TEL). 




PHILADELPHIA : 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 

1887. 



Copyright, 1886, by J. B. Lippincott Company. 




4^ HEAD-PIECE TO ILLUSTRATIONS. 

BvHini hij W. II.UriLTOX GlBS(»f. Eiuji-arnl hij J. W. Lauderbach. 
jAi. HALF-TITLE— THE CLOSING SCENE. Driurn hi/ Edmund 11. GarRETT. 

FRONTISPIECE. 

Dratrii hi/ W. IlA>riLTON GiBSON. Eiii/ruvcd hi/ F. S. KiNG. 

WITHIN Ills SOBER REALM OF LEAFLESS TREES PagI': 11 

Driiii-n hi] BiiucE Crane. Emjrai'cd hij John Dalztel. 
THE GRAY BARNS LOOKING FROM THEIR HAZY HILLS 1.3 

Brawn hij Ediuind H. Garrett. Eiujravfjd hi/ 11. E. Sylvester. 
THE DISTANT WOODMAN HEWED HIS WINTER LOG 15 

Drawn hi/ Will II. Low. Engraved hi/ TuojrAs II. Heard. 
THE EMBi\.TTLED FORESTS, EREWHILE ARMED IN GOLD 17 

Drawn hi/ J. FranciS MurI'HY. Engrarrd hij GeoRGE A. Teel. 
ON SLUMBROUS WINGS THE VULTURE HELD HIS FLIGHT 19 

Drawn hi/ Edmund H. Garrett. Engraved hi/ Jno. P. Davls. 
THE SENTINEL COCK UPON THE HILL-SIDE CREW 21 

Drinrn hi/ J. FrANCIS MurI'HY. Engraved hy J. W. LauDERBACH. 
WHERE ERST THE JAY, WITHIN THE ELM'S TALL CREST 2:! 

Drawn hij CiiARLEs Melville Dewey. Engraved hij George P. Williams. 

WHERE SANG THE NOISY MASONS OF THE EAVES 25 

Drawn hij II. BoLTON JoNES. Engraved hij Fred. JuengliNG. 

ALL NOW WAS SONGLESS, EMPTY, AND FORLORN 27 

Drawn hij Edmund II. Garrett. Engraved hi/ S. S. Kilburn. 



M'- 



HEAD-l'IECE TO ILLUSTRATIONS. 
Di-aini hi/ W. Hamilton Gibson. Eni/rdi-ed hi/ W. II. Morse. 
"% HALF-TITLE— DESIGNS. Dntini hy Edmund H. Garrrtt. 

ALONE FROM OUT THE STUBBLE PIPE0 THE QUAIL Page 29 

Dnurn hi/ U. W. Trvon. Enyraved by F. A. Pettit. 
THERE WAS NO BUD, NO BLOOM UPON THE BOWERS 31 

JJrairti In/ BrI'CE Crane. Eiii/rai:t(l hi/ A. LiNDSAV. 
WHERE THE WOODBINE SHED UPON THE PORCH ITS CRIMSON LEAVES . . ."J.? 

Druini hi/ W. L. Tayloi!. Eiiijraccl hij IIenry Wol.l". 
SAT, LIKE A FATE, AND WATCHED THE FLYING THREAD .... .'55 

Drawn by HowAKD Pyle. Engraved by >S. (i. Putnam. 
SHE HEARD THE STIR OF HIS BLACK MANTLE TRAILING IN THE DUST . .'57 

Drawn by Howard Pvle. Engraved by C. H. Reed. 
WHILE YET HER CHEEK WAS BRIGHT WITH SUMMER BLOOM . . . ?,9 

Drawn by IIoWARD PvLE. Em/raved by FrANK FreNCII. 
REGAVE THE SWORDS,— BUT NOT THE HAND 41 

JJraivn by 11. BoLTON JoNES. Engraved by Robert IIoskiN. 
BREATHED THROUGH HER LIPS A SAD AND TREMULOUS TUNE . . . 43 

Drawn by lIoWARD PvLE, Engraved by E. Heinemann. 
DEATH AND WINTER CLOSED THE AUTUMN SCENE 45 

Drawn by IIowARD Pvi-E. Engraved by F. H. Wellington. 
CLOSING SCENE 47 

Drawn by James R. SwoRD. Engraved by J. TiNKEV. 








Within liis sober realm of leafless trees 
The russet year inhaled the dreamy air; 

Like some tanned reaper in his hour of ease, 
When all the fields are lying brown and bare. 



THE CLOSL\G SCENE 



13 




The gray barns looking T 

from their hazy hills -s-"^-_^4 

O'er the dim waters ^ 

widening in the vales, : 

Sent down the air a greeting to the mills, 
On the dnll thnnder of alternate flails. 



rilH CLOSING SCENE. 



15 




All sights were mellowed, and all sounds subdued, 
The hills seemed farther, and the streams sang low, 

As in a dream the distant woodman hewed 
His winter log with many a muffled blow. 



777/:; CLO,SIXU SCENE. 



J7 



The embattled forests, 
erewhile armed in gold, 

Their banners bright 
with every martial hue 




Now stood, like some sad beaten host of old, 
Withdrawn afar in Time's remotest blue. 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 



10 




On slumbrous wings the vulture held his flight; 

The dove scarce heard his sighing mate's comjidaint; 
And like a star slow drowning in the light, 

The villao-e church vane seemed to pale and fiiint. 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 



21 



The sentinel cock upon tlic hill-side crew — 
Crew thrice, and all was stiller than before, — 



mm. 







f 



■^'m 



■AtM 



Silent till some ^ ' ' 

replying warder blew 
His alien horn, and then was heard no more. 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 



23 




Where erst the jay, within the ehn's tall crest, 

Made garrulous trouble round her unfledged young, 

And where the oriole hung her swaying nest. 
By every light wind like a censer swung: — 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 



25 



Where sang the noisy masons of the eaves, 

The busy swallows, 
ever cii cling neai, 




Wt- 


J w a^ ,. 



Forebotling, as the rustic mind believes. 
An early harvest and a plenteous year;- 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 



27 



AVliere every bird wliicli eliarined tlie vernal least, 
Shook the sweet slumber from its wings at murn, 
To warn the reaper of the rosy east, — 




All now was songless, empty, and forlorn. 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 



29 



Alone from out the stuhble i)ip('(l the quail, 

And croaked the crow through all the dreamy gloom ; 




Alone the pheasant, drumming in the vale, 
Made echo to the distant cottage loom. 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 



31 




There was no bud, no bloom upon the bowers ; 

The spiders wove their thin shrouds niglit by night; 
The thistle-down, the only ghost of flowers, 

Sailed slowly by, passed noiseless out of sight. 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 



33 



Amid all this, in this most cheerless air, 

And where the woodbine shed upon the porch 





Its crimson leaves, as if the Year stood there 
Firing the floor with his inverted torch ; — 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 



35 




Amid all this, the centre of the scene, 

The white-haired matron, with monotonous tread, 

Plied the swift wheel, and, with her joyless mien, 
Sat, like a Fate, and watched the flying thread. 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 



37 



She had known Sorrow, — he had walked with her, 
Oft snpped and broke the bitter ashen crust ; 




And in the dead leaves s'till she heard the stir 
Of his black mantle trailing in the dust. 



THE CLOSIXG SCENE. 



39 




While yet her cheek was bright with summer bloom, 
Her country summoned, and she gave her all ; 

And twice War bowed to her his sable plume — 
Regave the sw^ords to rust upon her wall. 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 



41 



Regave the swords, — but not the liund thut drew 
And struck for Liberty its dying blow, 




Nor him who, to his sire and country true, 
Fell 'mid the ranks of the invading foe. 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 



43 




Long, but not loud, the droning wheel went on, 
Like the low murmur of a hive at noon ; 

Long, but not loud, the memory of the gone 

Breathed through her lips a sad and tremulous tune. 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 



45 



At last the thread was snapped — her liead was bowed ; 
Life dropped the distaff through his hands serene, — 




And loving neighbors smoothed her careful shroud, 
While Death and Winter closed the autumn scene. 




r^' 




